Always Second Best
by Elendraug
Summary: Fly on, brother mine, to a place far away, where the Kings live on forever until the end of eternity. Gen. Faramir.


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Always Second Best

By StarWolf

12/21/2003

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Title: Always Second Best

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Author: StarWolf (elendraug@yahoo.com)

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Fandom: Lord of the Rings

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Rating: PG-13

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Pairing: Mild Boromir/Faramir, if you interpret it that way.

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Genre: Angst

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Warnings: Depression, suicidal thoughts, implied character death, potentially a slight A/U

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Disclaimer: They're all Tolkien's. I don't own them, I just love them.

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Summary: Fly on, brother mine, to a place far away, where the Kings live on forever until the end of eternity.

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Distribution: No. Leave it where I put it, meaning Fanfiction.net and my website.

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Authoress' Notes: Faramir angst. Poor baby.

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My brother has fallen, and I rise to avenge his death. I cannot fight the Orcs that slew him, but I can defeat their kin. My brother, so strong and proud and skilled, he has died, and I still live. I cannot bear this weight upon me, the torment I endure now that he is beyond my reach. As I climb atop the noble steed that shall carry me into my final battle, the Gondorian armour threatens to send me back to the ground. Adorned with the White Tree and Seven Stars, the silver reflects the light of the grey dawn, and I know that I will not survive. Boromir the Brave will sail among stars, and Faramir the Failure will careen into nothingness.

Fly on, brother mine, to a place far away, where the Kings live on forever until the end of eternity. Escape from this world of confusion and hate that has shunned me so. So loved by your father, you have perished in a valiant struggle to save your friends. Forsaken by my father, I ride to my demise, and I do not fear this dawn. I embrace the darkness turned light, and listen to nimble hooves thundering across the land as we fly across the dry ground. Dust billows about the horses' feet, and I close my eyes against the oncoming wind. Fly on.

I gaze into the distance, and a mass of obsidian terror assaults my vision. Orcs, thousands of them, and they all wait to skewer my body and sever my limbs, to make me bleed and cry out in pain, to catalyze my descent into blissful death and take me from this bitter existence. Kill me and I will thank thee, Master Orc. For thy sword shall pierce my heart, and it will bleed for the hopes that have been lost, the dreams that have been shattered, the love that has been torn from me in spiteful rage.

Burn, O Father, burn in the knowledge that you have scorned me for the last time. You shall not see me again, and I will make sure of it. The red sun rises, and I shall not see it again. Let your anger seethe and your hatred grow as I release myself into the hands of Death, glorious Death -- a reprieve and a relief from the cruel thoughts that plague my muddled mind. Auburn hair whips through the decorated metal of my helmet and stings my eyes, and I blink against the irritation.

High above me, the Nazgûl and their Fell Beasts cry out in screaming fury, the horrendous noise awakening a deep fear instilled within all present. I smile mirthlessly, for the can no longer affect me. I am too fargone to fear such trivial matters as death. Death shall be my saviour, and I thank him in advance. O Merciful, Sweet Death, free me from the prison I have been locked in for so long. I strove so hard to please my father, yet he cannot care for me in the least. So now I bid you goodbye, and good day, O Father, and may your life hold more meaning than mine, for mine obviously meant nothing to you.

I glance to my side, to the others who ride with me. Mortified that their mortality is so apparent in these seemingly last moments, they tremble, and their eyes dart about hither and thither. I pity them, for they know not how fortunate they are. To die in a battle, to live on through your final deeds, to be remembered for your heroic efforts even as the end drew near, that is a worthy death. I will not experience such a thing, for no one will live to tell my story. The glare of the sun blinds me momentarily, and I hear one of my comrades call out to me.

"Lord Faramir! Surely you do not intend to continue riding? We've no chance of surviving! This is suicide!"

I nod. "I know."

Brother dearest, hear me now -- I shall see you again.


End file.
